


still life

by shanlyrical



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Memory Loss, Post-Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-05-16 13:37:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14812371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanlyrical/pseuds/shanlyrical
Summary: It was different during the war. They were fighting, and they were dying…but somehow, each and every day was different.Maybe that was because he was serving under General Kenobi.





	still life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gabriel4Sam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabriel4Sam/gifts).



Every day is the same.

It’s the strangest thing, this monotony. The cadets aren’t clones anymore; they’re all natural born human children representing the full range of human genetic variation. Nevertheless, their faces blur together in Cody’s vision, in his mind, in his memory.

One child? One hundred? One thousand? Ten thousand? He struggles to tell them apart after so many years.

And how many years has it been? Five? Ten? Fifteen? He struggles to keep track of their passing.

His brothers would say he is lucky – _he_ has not been decommissioned. _He_ has a teaching post in the new Imperial Naval Academy on Coruscant. _He_ gets to pass on his hard won wisdom and skills to the next generation.

Most of the rest of the surviving Kaminoan clones were decommissioned, and they did not adjust well to civilian life. They experienced the loss of the structure of army life keenly, and they lacked purpose under the new regime. In the absence of structure and purpose, many fell into poverty, depression, and/or substance abuse – each one a slow death of sorts. Others – too many! too many! – simply ended their own lives outright.

So. Yes. Cody is one of the lucky ones.

In theory.

It was different during the war. They were fighting, and they were dying…but somehow, each and every day was different.

Maybe that was because he was serving under General Kenobi.

Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi: the traitor Cody had failed to apprehend on Utapau. He’d escaped offworld, and he has been missing, a fugitive from justice, for…for…for…years…years…how many years has he been…?

Cody can’t…he can’t—

Why the hell _can’t he_ _remember_ —

* * *

He can’t remember how it started, or when, but it must’ve been after some battle or another, after the adrenaline rush had receded and the violence, the death, and the pain of the loss of comrades, and of innocent noncombatants, had begun to exact their physical and emotional toll.

They’d reached out for each other – in the same moment – neither man had been the one to start it. They’d both decided at the same time, together, to choose the kinetic sensuousness of life over the still sterility of death.

Obi-Wan’s mouth was so soft and warm and welcoming, and Cody delighted in the coarse tickle of his beard as they rolled and wrestled amid the blankets of Cody’s camp bed, all tangled limbs and hastiness as Jedi robes and clone trooper armor were peeled off to reveal the intoxicating expanses of bare flesh beneath.

They both had their scars, of course, Cody more so than Obi-Wan, yet they were both beautiful and perfect to each other. Obi-Wan caressed each and every blaster burn and shrapnel scar on Cody, and Cody kissed the old lightsaber stab wound that had missed Obi-Wan’s heart by mere centimeters. How he wished he could have been there to protect Obi-Wan from such pain.

It had happened before Cody was born, though. Accelerated aging put him in the prime of life when a natural born human would have been barely an adolescent, and the trials and tribulations of war made him feel as ancient as the moons over Kamino. Nevertheless, Obi-Wan was thrice his age, and there were things that he knew which Cody did not.

How to make love, for instance.

“I-I—! Oooohhhh—!” Cody gasped, breaking their kiss abruptly as their erections brushed together.

Obi-Wan smiled, eyes twinkling, bright and mischievous, and then he pushed Cody down onto his back, straddled his hips, took Cody into his hand, and began to stroke with determination.

Somehow, it felt different, more intense, than touching himself. Cody barely had the wherewithal to reciprocate…but reciprocate he would.

And so he did.

What followed was awkward, messy, smelly…and absolutely, positively _wonderful_. Obi-Wan took him from behind, with Cody on his hands and knees, whining with mingled pain and pleasure as he was filled, coming untouched from the pounding he was eventually able to take with enthusiasm.

Later, he had Obi-Wan too, and that was slow and sweet and gentle, rocking together, chest to chest, for what seemed like an eternity until, finally, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and threw his head back, mouth open, vulnerable throat bared to Cody’s nips and kisses, and began to ejaculate. He made no noise when he came, but his body was vibrating, just _vibrating_ , and the rhythmic clench and release of his inner muscles around Cody was more than enough to make Cody spill again as well.

As he poured himself into Obi-Wan, in long, hot, gut-wrenching pulses, he imagined that they would always be a part of each other.

Afterwards, Cody dozed, sweaty and sticky in the humid night air, and Obi-Wan rose from the camp bed to reposition himself on the ground in seated meditation.

He was peaceful, still. So very still. Like a statue or a portrait painting. Cody wondered if he was even breathing.

But Cody knew he was – breathing, that is – and so he did not wish to disturb him. To do that would be intrusive, needy.

And Cody told himself the passion they had shared was already more than enough. Enough that he’d remember it always.

* * *

Everyone knows that it’s better to forget sometimes. Life under Imperial rule means remembering three contradictory things each day and forgetting three others that had been true only yesterday. It’s a small price to pay for galactic unity, for this hard-won peace.

The Jedi had been the ones fomenting war all along. The Inquisitors, led by a mysterious man known only as Darth Vader, are hunting down the final few who escaped Order 66.

The final few…like…like…like…

Apparently, Cody has this so-called Lord Vader to thank for his teaching post at the Academy. If he’s honest, he’s not sure why he’s been rewarded in this manner for his failure to apprehend the traitor he’d once regarded as his commanding officer.

He wonders if he met Lord Vader at some point during the war. If so, he must have comported himself admirably, but he can’t remember the occasion. How many years ago would that have been? He can’t remember that, either.

Too bad. Or not. What does the loss matter, really?

Every day is the same, and Cody is resolved to live each day like it is his first – or perhaps his last.


End file.
